


Karaoke Night

by ash_mcj



Series: The Gallagher-Milkovich Family [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drunk!Ian, Established Relationship, Gallaghers - Freeform, Ian does karaoke, Karaoke, M/M, Milkoviches - Freeform, Singing, criminal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_mcj/pseuds/ash_mcj
Summary: Fiona forces the Gallagher-Milkovich household to attend their first ever karaoke night as a combined family, and Ian--who gets his hands on a beer and gets completely trashed--has a song to sing to Mickey."But mama, I'm in love with a criminal"





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has been one of my favorite songs for a while, and I decided that I just had to write this. It might be a little ooc; I apologize. I'm half-asleep and this was written really quickly, so I'm sorry ahead of time. 
> 
> The lyrics included in this one-shot are from the song “Criminal” by Britney Spears.

It had been almost a year since Mickey came out and Colin, Iggy, Mickey, Mandy, and Molly Milkovich moved into the Gallagher house. There was the occasional fight over what they were having for dinner, or whether or not guns were safe to be lying around the house with Liam--and Carl, really--running about. Despite the arguments, they were actually functioning fairly well as a makeshift family.

“Yo, Gallagher,” Mickey called over to his boyfriend, who was standing at the shitty Alibi pool table with Tommy and Kermit. “Did you read this text from Fiona?”

“I left my phone at home.” Ian shook his head, watching Tommy hit the ‘3’ ball into one of the holes.

Mickey rolled his eyes, before reading: “Mandatory Gallagher-Milkovich karaoke party at the house tonight. Seven o’clock. Somebody bring booze--we’re running low.”

“ _ Mandatory _ ?” Ian laughed. “We’re being forced to sing karaoke?”

“Better not be.” Mickey grumbled. “I ain’t fuckin’ singing.”

“Oh, c’mon, Mick. I wanna hear your singing voice.” Ian pleaded.

“You’ve already heard it. If you were too drunk to remember us walking down the street singing ‘Love is a Battlefield’ at the top of our lungs, then that’s your fault.”

“I’ll give you a hummer, if you sing tonight.” Ian offered.

“Fuck no, man; we both know you’ll blow me anyway. You can’t stay off your knees for ten minutes.”

“Whatever--likin’ what I like don’t make me a bitch.” Ian shrugged. Mickey smiled, knowing that he had said the same thing to Ian when they first started fucking.

“Get a room, you two.” Tommy grimaced. Accepting them for being gay was one thing--listening to them discuss blow jobs was another.

“Good idea.” Ian agreed, walking over to Mickey and grabbing his ass tightly, making the shorter man jump and smack his shoulder. “It’s been longer than ten minutes, you know.”

Mickey couldn’t help but chuckle as he followed his horny boyfriend out of the bar.

***

By seven-fifteen, all eleven members of the Gallagher-Milkovich family aggregated in the living room. Beers--brought by Lip--were distributed to everyone older than eighteen. Ian got his hands on one when Mickey wasn’t looking, and before long, he was trashed.

“Mickey, I think you should sing.” Ian slurred. “Everyone who wants to see Mickey sing, say ‘Aye’.”

“I’m not fucking singing, Gallagher.” Mickey objected. “You go sing.”

“Fine,” Ian huffed, standing up and wobbling a bit, before regaining his balance. “I will.”

“It’s connected to the laptop, so just type in the song there, and--” Fiona tried to help, but he waved her off.

“I got this, I got this. I know how to fucking karaoke, okay? I’m like...the Karaoke Master.”

Fiona put her hands up in surrender and backed off, rolling her eyes.

“Your boyfriend got shit-faced after one beer.” Iggy told Mickey. “You shoulda found one that could hold his booze.”

“It’s his meds.” Mickey defended him.

“Okay, so this is a song that I was totally obsessed with when I was like fifteen. I listened to it all he time. Not to brag or anything, but I know all the words.” Ian said, looking very proud of himself.

When the opening music came on, Fiona snorted, “Ian, is this Britney Spears?”

“Fuck yeah, it is.” Ian grinned.

“You are so gay.” Mickey teased.

“Mhmm,” Ian hummed. “That’s old news, though.”

 

“ _ He is a hustler; he's no good at all _

_ He is a loser; he's a bum, bum, bum, bum _

_ He lies, he bluffs, he's unreliable _

_ He is a sucker with a gun, gun, gun, gun _ ”

 

“I think I know why this was your favorite song.” Lip said, looking at Mickey pointedly, to which the thug promptly flipped him off.

 

" _ I know you told me I should stay away _

_ I know you said he's just a dog astray _

_ He is a bad boy with a tainted heart _

_ And even I know this ain't smart _ ”

 

Fiona bit her lower lip, remembering how many times she had tried to make Ian leave Mickey, when she had first found out about them. She figured he--being Mickey Milkovich, the aggressive, criminal drug dealer--would be terrible for him in every way. Over the past year, however, she realized that she couldn’t have been more wrong.

 

“ _ But, Mama, I'm in love with a criminal _

_ And this type of love isn't rational; it's physical _

_ Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright _

_ All reason aside I just can't deny, love the guy _ ”

 

Ian walked over to Mickey, who was sitting on the couch, and held a curved hand in front of his face. Mickey looked at it confusedly at first, before swatting it away.

“I’m not completing the fucking heart.” He snarled. “We aren’t thirteen year old girls.”

“You’re the size of one, though.” Ian smirked, and Mickey glared at him.

“Fuck off--you’re just a giant.” Mickey said, annoyed.  


 

“ _ He is a villain by the devil's law _

_ He is a killer just for fun, fun, fun, fun _

_ That man's a snitch and unpredictable _ ”

 

“I ain’t a snitch.” Mickey argued. “Milkoviches don’t snitch.”

“Snitches are pussies.” Colin said from beside him.

 

“ _ He's got no conscience, he got none, none, none, none _

_ Ooooooh I knoooooow, should've let go, but no _

_ 'Cause he is a bad boy with a tainted heart _

_ And even I know this ain't smart _

 

_ But, Mama, I'm in love with a criminal _

_ And this type of love isn't rational; it's physical _

_ Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright _

_ All reason aside I just can't deny, love the guy _ ”

 

Ian reached down and took Mickey’s left hand in his, separating his fingers so that he could see the side of his ring finger, where ‘I.G.’ was tattooed. He smiled as he remembered the night of the sleepover, when Mickey--surprisingly--suggested that they tattoo each other’s initials onto their left ring fingers. The decision was made while they were both very stoned, but Ian never regretted it for a second. It was their own little version of promise rings, stained into their skin for the rest of their lives. Whoever said Mickey Milkovich wasn’t a romantic--fuck them.

 

“ _ And he's got my name _

_ Tattooed on his arm _

_ His lucky charm _

_ So I guess it's OK _

_ He's with me _

_ And I hear people talk (people talk) _

_ Try to make remarks _

_ Keep us apart _

_ But I don't even hear _

_ I don't care _ ”

 

From the very beginning, everybody seemed to try to keep Mickey and Ian apart. Whether it be friends, family, or neighbors--they all did everything in their power to prevent them from being together. Mickey was still waiting for Ian to listen to all the shit people told him about Mickey. How Mickey was the last person anyone should love. How he was just a mean, thuggish, no-good, high school dropout with no future. He already knew that he didn’t deserve Ian--he’d known since the start--but Ian didn’t seem to realize it, yet. He hoped he never would. Mickey, of course, had no reason to worry. Ian was well-aware of what people said, but he paid them no attention. He’d known Mickey was it for him since he was fifteen, and no amount of criticism was going to change that.

 

“ _ 'Cause, Mama, I'm in love with a criminal _

_ And this type of love isn't rational; it's physical _

_ Mama please don't cry, I will be alright _

_ All reason aside I just can't deny, love the guy _ ”

By this point, Ian was putting on a full concert. He was dancing--well, stumbling around uncoordinatedly--and singing way louder than any person with his lack of musical talent should be singing. He didn’t notice Iggy and Lip videotaping it on their phones, but Mickey did, and he made a mental note to ask for a copy of the videos later.

 

“ _ Mama, I'm in love with a criminal _

_ And this type of love isn't rational, _

_ It's physical _

_ Mama please don't cry, I will be alright _

_ All reason aside _

_ I just can't deny, love the guy _ ”

When the music finally stopped, Ian bowed dramatically, and everyone cheered, laughing and clapping.

“Iggy, your turn.” Fiona said, taking the microphone from her brother and handing it to the Milkovich. 

“No, it isn’t.” Iggy tried to protest, but Fiona hauled him up by his arm and shoved the microphone into his hand.

Ian collapsed onto Mickey’s lap, and the latter wrapped his arms around Ian’s waist, instinctively.

“Mickey,” Ian whispered loudly, shifting in order to look at him, while remaining on his lap. “I have a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Mickey asked.

“I’m...I’m in love with a criminal.” He giggled.

Mickey smiled, tightening his grip on Ian and leaning in to peck his lips.

“Well, Firecrotch, I’m in love with a drunken idiot, so...I guess we’re both screwed.”

One corner of Ian’s mouth twisted up into the lopsided grin that always managed to make Mickey’s chest feel warm. He ran his fingers through Mickey’s short black hair affectionately, and pressed their lips together.

“Yeah,” Ian mumbled into his boyfriend’s mouth. “I guess we are.”  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and (nice) comments are really appreciated! 
> 
> I love to hear when something I write makes someone smile, so please let me know! :)


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